


You, my dear - are the WORST...

by ellymelly



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: CURSE YOU TUMBLR, F/M, Tumblr Dare, no really this is a dare, proudly brought to you by the weird AEST liveblog party 2, question time, vault shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:53:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellymelly/pseuds/ellymelly
Summary: The Doctor goes down to the vault when he's been told not to. Missy decides to play a game.





	You, my dear - are the WORST...

**Author's Note:**

> *clears throat*
> 
> WELL - how do I even fucking explain this? It was 4am. A group of Australians were up talking shit waiting for World Enough and Time to air and we came up with this BAD FUCKING IDEA to have a fic-writing party on the night of the final (tonight). I went for the extra-unwise handicap to open up the tumblr floor for a challenge.
> 
> Tumblr submitted questions that Missy had to ask during the course of this fic. I had to include every single one of them and those fuckers went to town on me.
> 
> If you're here because you loved the gentle finesse of 'Visiting the Vault' and you're looking for a tasteful tag to that adventure LEAVE NOW. SLAM THE FUCKING DOOR AND GO. THIS IS CRACK. It's 4am and I've got to post it or I'm going to fail this challenge.
> 
> IT IS WHAT IT IS.
> 
> Proceed with care.
> 
> ALSO as a consequence of these dubious events, we've decided to name Master/Doctor/Missy [ milk&2sugars ] Spread the word.

Nardole is not right about a lot – actually as a statistic he’s impressively dire – but when it comes to Missy he’s got a nose for accuracy.

“Today’s not a good day for it,” he said, wandering into the Doctor’s office as the Time Lord was preparing to leave. “You’ve got your special jacket on and I know what that means,” Nardole added, setting the tray of undrinkable tea down. “There are some things you shouldn’t do in life. Missy is one of them.”

The Doctor fussed with the tray, stole a couple of biscuits, sneered at the tea and fixed his velvet jacket. “There are words coming out of your mouth but I can’t understand them. The Tardis translation matrix must be on the fritz.”

Nardole folded his arms. The Doctor was going to go down to the vault anyway, he could tell, ignoring his perfectly sound advice. “Well I’m not rescuing you this time. I’ve got a show on and everything.”

“Honestly, you act like I’ve never been alone with her before. We _grew up_ together. We’ve never needed chaperones – or _rescuing_. So go on, go watch your show.” The Doctor decided to pick up the entire plate of biscuits and take it with him. There was tea in the vault.

All that was left for Nardole to do was to raise his hands in defeat. There was no reasoning with the libidinous Time Lord. Ultra-evolved-civilisation-his-arse. They were as base as everyone else in the universe and Missy was his blind spot. He’d been running around for the past seventy years like a man with a vintage car in the garage – one he spent every weekend polishing but was too afraid to take out for a spin in case he got a scratch on it. “I mean it, sir. No rescue party so check her for weapons on the way in. I thought I caught her building something last time.”

*~*~*

It’s _always_ a trap because there’s _always_ flirting, the Doctor muses, as he steps into the vault.

He does a quick scan of the room, making certain that she’s not hiding in a shadow, poised to pounce. Sometimes he likes it when she does that – the feel of the vault door pressed against his back with all its rivets and bolts. Missy, however, is safely at her piano tapping away absently at the keys, probably inventing a new genre of music.

He set the plate of biscuits down on one of the small tables and ambled over to the kitchen area to make more tea. The Doctor suspected that she drank it to indulge him more than anything else.

“You’re no fun...” Missy drawled from the piano. The Doctor hadn’t realised that she was watching at him but she was, her sharp blue eyes tracking his movements. “No guitar today.”

“I’ve had to re-string it after last time,” he muttered his reply, as the kettle boiled. “You play too rough, Missy.”

Her lip curled. Compliments today. That’s nice. “And no real food either. However are we supposed to entertain ourselves or were you planning on sitting in your chair and watching me fiddle about up here for a while?”

“Tea?” He avoided her question.

“No thanks.”

He deflated slightly, taking his solitary cup back across the room. Some days he thought she was making progress with her _change of heart_ but there were others when he lingered near the forcefield and watched her contemplate all the carnage she could rustle up if he let her out. Civilisations literally burned in her eyes. Today was somewhere in between.

“It’s getting too warm in here,” he added, noticing that she’d done away with her jacket and left it hanging on the back of a chair. Her long, white Victorian shirt was rolled up above her elbows where a set of purple arm bands held it in place. She was really committed to the Vintage look this time around. One day he’d ask her why. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take some of these heaters away?”

Missy practically hissed at him.

The Doctor lifted his hands in apology. “It was only a question. Keep them if you like. I don’t care if you melt.”

“I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“No. Suppose not. A barn fell on her – Nardole could organise that for you if you like. He’s not warmed up to you yet. It might help if you remembered his actual name once or twice a year.”

“If he wants rid of me he should know that it’ll take more than a stray barn.”

He tried drinking his tea standing up but eventually he settled in his favourite chair. Missy smiled again. Visiting her in the vault was an admission of weakness. Bringing her gifts was outright overt. Offering to make her tea? Who did the Doctor think he was fooling because it certainly wasn’t a convincing act. He’d always wanted to lock her away somewhere – in a vault, in his Tardis – under the premise of keeping her safe. Well… Missy saw straight through that pathetic lie. The Doctor liked having her captive and she made certain to exploit it.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, when Missy lost herself staring into nowhere, her hands still on the piano. He had enjoyed her chaotic nonsense but the silence was unsettled.

Notes flowed from her fingertips again, slow and teasing, climbing their way up. “Is this what you want, Doctor, to talk?” She replied. “Fine. I can talk. If that’s what you want.” Everything was a purr with her. “You used to like it when we _talked_ in the shadow of the academy.”

_Curse her_ , thought the Doctor. She was in one of her moods. “ That was a long time ago.”

“Mmm perhaps and the conversation’s gone down hill from there. It’s like you’ve been corrupted by humans and their embarrassingly simple dialect. It’s all grunts and moans. Where’s the finesse? The _sutileza_?  Heavens I’m so _bored_ of them and their tiny little world.”  And she looked it, bashing a B-flat over and over like a heart beat facing danger.

“Stop that, Missy.” He pleaded. She was going to give him a headache or a heartache or both.

She dragged her hand the full length of the piano, making it screech. “ Fine. Let’s play a game.”

“Why can’t we just drink tea?” He liked tea. Tea was simple. Even Gallifreyans drank tea it was the one thing common to every planet.

Missy closed the cover on the keys and spun around on the stool, looking half mad but that might have been down to the hair. “ Because, my dear, drinking tea is how you avoid reality.  It’s nothing but procrastination in disguise. That and I’m out of sugar.”

S he was such a wild contradiction. The murdering psychopath who took tea with milk and two sugars.  The Doctor shouldn’t love that about her but he did.  _He really did._

“Don’t look at me with those big, sad eyes.” Missy complained. “You promised me conversation.”

“We’re talking now. This – this is conversation.” He tried to get his point across by gesturing between himself and her cage. _Hmm_. Not much of a cage really, considering she worked out how to get out of it on the first damn day. “I have a question.”

“Oh Doctor...”

He wished she wouldn’t drag his name out like that. It led to endless teasing from Bill and Nardole. Bill was utterly convinced that he and Missy were married – right up until she worked out that Missy stood for ‘Mistress’ and then she went down a whole different ladder of conspiracy theories. “ How long did it take for you to disable that forcefield?” He asked.

Missy blinked back joyfully with those disarming bright blue eyes. “Do you want the answer in nanoseconds of Retirghwoik minutes?”

Well, the Doctor reasoned, if she was able to give it in Retirghwoik minutes then he needed to work on his security features. “ Don’t do that – don’t sit on the piano,” he added in alarm, as Missy closed the lid and slid onto the black surface, kicking her heels playfully. “You’re going to crack it.”

Missy leaned back slightly, arching  _just so_ . “The only thing s that crack around me, darling, are mirrors.” Her eyes had a dangerous shine about them. If he wouldn’t bring her entertainment  then  she’d  simply have to  make it her self. “Do you like it when people ask you things? Oh, you must...” Missy grinned. “Why else would you pose your name as a question? I find a statement is more bold. You know. Be sure about who you are – I find that helps when conquering worlds.”

“Is that what you want to do here, Missy, ask me questions?”

“I have a few bottled up over the aeons that could do with a bit of airing.”

H e pinched the bridge of his nose. Regret already tightening his skin. “ Is this another one of your games, Missy?”

“I can make it into a game if you’re more comfortable in that setting… This time, Doctor, you have to answer truthfully. I’ll know if you lie. I always do.”

“What happens if I lie?” Because it was inevitable. He lied so often it was like breathing.

“Depending on how appallingly bad you are at this, I’ll think of something. You’ve nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon, clearly, or you wouldn’t be down here in the first place.”

A ctually, there were plenty of things he should have been doing – like marking student papers of feeding his fish. “All right.” It was tame compared to Missy’s last bright idea for entertainment and it meant that he could keep sipping his tea. “ You can ask questions, I’ll answer but you have to stay up there. At least  _pretend_ that forcefield works.”

She snarled playfully at it.  He was truly dreadful at traps – and flirting.  Missy shuffled around a little, getting comfortable on top of the piano. His fears about its fragility were entirely unfounded. They’d done worse things to the piano than sit calmly on top of it, as he well knew.

“Do you still have my text book?”

The Doctor flinched backwards in confusion. Of all the things he’d thought she’ d ask, that was not one of them. “I’m sorry?”

“The one you stole, Doctor. _Tardis Maintenance and Basic Void Physics_ I know it was you.”

It was many thousands of years ago and he still had it sitting under the control console whenever he begrudgingly had to do repair work. “I didn’t take your book, Missy.”

“Liar...” she hissed darkly.

“I’m borrowing it,” he amended. “Besides, you don’t have a Tardis, what do you need it for?”

“Don’t I?”

The Doctor felt himself sweat a little. He bloody hoped she didn’t have a Tardis kicking about nearby.  Missy wondered if he ever read her scrawls in the book’s margin… Maybe that’s why he was blushing now.

“What did you do with my pet?”

“I never got you a pony,” the Doctor replied, thankful he’d avoided more pressing questions about stolen property, “so you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You know the one. Big eyes. Quite small. Odd sort of forehead.” Nothing was registering. “Kept rambling on about that pink human.” Still nothing. “Honestly? Dear me. Companions really are a dime a dozen with you – can’t even remember they were there. That’s because you’re careless with them, honey. If they lasted longer you might be able to put a name with a face.”

“You don’t even _have_ companions, Missy.”

“Of _course_ not,” she shuddered at the thought. “They’re about five minutes old.”

T he Doctor’s head ended up with a serious lean on it when he noticed that Missy wasn’t wearing her usual belt around her waist. No. It was a thin slip of patterned silk.

Missy  caught him looking and returned his perilous gaze with a smirk. “I found your scarf.”  _Found_ was probably on par with his version of  _borrowing_ . “Shall I tie you up with it?”

“No thanks...”

“What if I did it while we were doing this?” She bit her lip a little. “I could tie it over your eyes. Might help you find the truth.”

“I’m good.” And he certainly wasn’t thinking about that. _Shit._ He spilled some of his tea.

“I found it in my bed along with some pants. Are those your pants in my bed?”

“Now who’s lying, Missy.” The Doctor had left his scarf on the coat rack, not between her sheets and if there were pants in her bed they certainly didn’t belong to him. He’d never be so careless.

“Fair play. We agreed on truth. Who’s sexier: me or the Tardis?”

He wanted to bury his head in the cup of tea and drown in it. “ She’s a machine, you’re a -” He tried to think of a way to say,  _very attractive Time Lady_ that she couldn’t latch onto  and torment him for the rest of eternity.

“ _Me_ then...” Missy didn’t need for him to answer aloud. She could see it in his eyes. “What happened to the one with the huge mass of curly hair?”

The Doctor fixed her with a cautionary glare. “You already know the answer to that.” Why did she do that? Beckon him in and stab him through the heart, over and over. Maybe that was the real game she wanted to play here.

“Well – I know she died the moment you met her – not a great start to the relationship, I’d add. Though the facts are a bit hazy. Something about a flesh-eating library. Oh, you know how I love libraries yet you won’t tell me that story.”

“No.” But she was gazing at him with what he interpreted as genuine curiosity. The Doctor set his tea down on the table beside. “River connected herself into the library’s computer. It needed a conduit to download all the lifeforms so we could escape the planet. It was supposed to be me but, well, long story is that she had handcuffs. Her body died but I managed to upload an echo of her into the library database. She’s still there.”

Missy was  _horrified_ . She’d done some questionable things in her time but existing as a data ghost forever was a cruel torment for someone he claimed to love. “Y ou left a copy of your wife sitting on a shelf in a library at the edge of the universe. Remind me never to marry you, Doctor.”

I f the Doctor thought, for one moment, that the confession would induce Missy into compassion he was horribly mistaken.

“Who do you love more… River or me?”

That vein was throbbing again. “Love is not a competition, Missy.” His eyes were answering again. He could feel the truth slipping from them.  _Missy was written from one beat of his heart to the next. Always there. Always whispering. A ghost on his lips._

“Interesting.” Was all she said in reply. Nothing was ever straight forward with them but if there was one thing the Doctor could not control it was his heart. “Why would you ever imply that I can’t feel pain?”

“Did I do that?”

“Well, why else did you leave me on Skaro?”

_Oh that…_ The Doctor rested his elbow on the chair and used his arm to prop up his head. He should  _never_ have agreed to this interrogation and he certainly doesn’t want to answer that question. “I should  not have done that.” He admitted.

“I saved you,” she snapped a little, “and you left me there. Did you really think your human could have done all that on her own? You’re alive because I came when you called like some kind of homing pigeon.”

He couldn’t help a slight smirk at her misunderstanding of Earth creatures  and their functions.

“You dumped me there on the Dalek homeworld after you were done working them into an apocalyptic frenzy. No Tardis. Surrounded by some very sensitive aliens. I could have been killed.”

“I was angry with you.” He admitted, and that was the truth.

“That’s no excuse.”

“Are you sure you don’t want tea?” He replied. Fuck was that the whisper of a tear in the corner of her eye? Impossible to tell. She’d wiped it away.

“Which one of us has the bigger body count these days? I’ve lost track...”

And now she’s deliberately twisting the knife.  He can feel it, right through his back and into his heart. She was going to hold it there until she was satisfied. “ Always me.”

“Tell me… how many people would be alive if you hadn’t saved me?”

“Do you mean from the beginning, when I pulled you out of that burning field?” He could still hear the flames rising in the red grass, ripping toward the sky with snaps of flame and smoke. She’d screamed – screams he’d hear forever. He’d saved her then and he’d save her now, no matter the cost to the universe. “If you hadn’t killed them, someone else would have. Time, even. The greatest murderer of us all.”

“Is that burnt human flesh I smell?”

“Don’t...”

H is answer made her feel strange. Missy slipped off the top of the piano and sat back down on the bench, lifting the cover so that she could contemplate the keys. She wanted to play but the music wasn’t there. “Do – do you regret asking for this?”

She was talking about the vault. About all of this. “It was never posed to me as a question, Missy. They were going to kill you – for real – forever.”

“And you came running.”

“You sent me your confession dial...” He whispered. The worst day of his life. “A universe without you would be no fun at all.”

Missy wondered if he mean t that. “ Might be slightly more rational though.”

Well, he couldn’t fault her there.

“Would you be mad if I said I slept with your wife?”

The Doctor was very happy he wasn’t drinking tea because he’d have choked on it at her question. “Which wife?” He countered, not letting her win that one.

“Oh Doctor… Are you _sure_ you want that to be your response?”

He thought about. Thought about it again then frowned  and revised . “ _Have_ you slept with one of my wives?”

“That would be telling.” And Missy was under no obligation to answer his questions. That’s not how her game worked. Still, she left enough ambiguity in her manner to leave the Doctor second guessing his entire history with his spouses. “I’m curious, how many of you _companions_ have you _fucked_ , Doctor?” Missy could feel his heart rise. It was so noisy, thumping across the psychic wall he tried not to share with her.

“A few.” Was all he could manage in reply but that was an admission in itself and that broadened her evil grin. She got a kick out of it, he could tell, imagining what he got up to. All those nights rutting away in the Tardis. He was so _base_ compared to her and for some reason Missy like that about him.

Missy chuckled out loud in victory.  _She knew it._ Very bad Doctor. Humans were pets not fuckbuddies. “ Did you ever bang Jack Harkness? He had such nice  arse and a really large  _personality_ .” Where was the lie? “ Oh go on, Doctor, give a girl a story. You promised to be honest. So far you’ve lied like a man on the scaffolds.”

“Once or twice. It’s difficult to remember. There was a lot of drinking involved. “Bar Yii – edge of Andromeda.”

“I know it.”

“Of course you do.”

“Not your kind of scene...”

“Well, I had a different face at the time, so did you I might add. Though I’m surprised at you, Missy. What’s a high born Gallifreyan doing at Bar Yii? I thought that sort of thing would be too primitive and sordid for your exemplary tastes.” She was so fond of gloating her genetic superiority that he was astounded she’d sink into such a dive of a place.

“It wasn’t all pleasure. I had a debt or two to settle.” How else did he think she got hold of that vortex manipulator? “I’ve been meaning to ask, why _do_ humans scream when you pop them?”

The Doctor had a dreadful feeling she’d been on a murdering spree there in the bar. It had become a rather quiet in that parsec of space. He should probably make a note to go back and check in on them because a bit of casual murder was definitely more her style. “Missy – tell me you didn’t…” All she did was grin in reply. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You like them then – the boys...” Missy ignored him. Captain Jack was quite a creature. She’d had a look in, a few times and she knew for a _fact_ that the Doctor was lying about how many visits he’d had. That’s why she always made a point of seeking his exes out. It helped to know the competition and occasionally remove them if they were particularly vexing. “ Did you prefer me when I was a man? You certainly nursed a bit of a crush.”

“Well that’s a trick question.” The Doctor sighed, looking abysmally at his tea cup. “You’re the same person. I like you equally.” It wasn’t _quite_ what he meant to say and now Missy had shifted into a deliberately provocative pose, sensing blood in the water, no doubt. That was the trouble with keeping apex predators locked up in a vault. You grew fond of them. Gave them a bit of rope. Inched close r, day by day, to a fatal mistake. It was inevitable that Missy would win this game. All she needed was time.

“I _knew_ you liked me.  I prefer you with the eyebrows, in case you’re wondering. They really do it for me. You never did tell me what it felt like...” She purred.

Somehow another one of the buttons on her blouse had come undone and the Doctor’s gaze lingered at the curve of cream skin for longer than he intended. He wasn’t going to lie. This regeneration of hers was a distraction that he was sure she’d manufactured on purpose. Oh yes. She’d gone out of her way to find a face that he’d find difficult to resist. Of all the ways to win a game she’d gone further than he ever would. It was working, though. That face of hers.  The Doctor cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, were you trying to ask me something?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Theta.”

“Please don’t use my name.”

“What… afraid the universe is listening? Oh I _heard_ that little light show you put on about the universe ending when your name was spoken, or whatever it was that you were trying to spin at the time to terrify the humans. If only they knew what your name sounded like screamed in the halls on Gallifrey.”

And  _that_ right there is what he didn’t need to hear. He pretended those nights hadn’t happened. Pretended that he didn’t know the Master down to her soul  _because he did_ . Every now and then those memories lapped to the surface and they usually manifested in activities in the vault Nardole strictly prohibited.  Lust was such a noisy, human desire and it had no right to control  a pair of Time Lords.

“Your name sounds best on my lips and you know it,” Missy added, crossing her legs slowly. She made sure that the layers of her skirt fanned out so that the Doctor could appreciate the depth of her costume. It was all about intrigue and though they might have dropped the collars and capes, clothes were still a weak point in their desires. “I’m the only one left in the universe who can say it the way it’s meant to be said.”

He hated that she was right. “ It felt  _right_ .” He finally answered her original question.

M issy was toying with him now – holding the moment – stretching it out to her satisfaction until she had the Doctor uncomfortable. She might be the one in the cage but this was her vault, her rules and she had all the time in the world to sit around thinking up ways to entrap the Doctor for her own entertainment. Not yet though. Missy deliberately fractured the moment with an unrelated question designed to snap him out of it. “Why won’t you take  _me_ to Darillium?”

That was cruel. Even by Missy-standards. If he didn’t know better, the Doctor would say that she was jealous. He frowned. Well… perhaps she  _was_ jealous. Why else did she simmer so ruthlessly at River’s memory? He knew that Missy had sought our River and carried on voracious affairs. River never knew exactly who she was but the stories she told had given the Doctor more than enough certainty. “ Because they are ancient, precious, protected historical monuments, Missy. You’d probably try to tear them down – or paint them blue.”

“You like blue. Twenty-four years though… Think what we could do.”

“Well, you’ve had seventy here so far so yeah, I have a reasonable idea what you’d get up to in confined spaces. Mostly.” He added, scratching his head. He was _sure_ that he’d forgotten some of it.  There was an incident, fifty odd years back, where he lost a few memories.

“Do I need to remind you?”

“Stop listening in on my thoughts...” He cautioned her.

Missy shrugged, spun around on the piano stool and laid her hands over the keys. This time she started playing a familiar sonata. An  _Urtraad_ from five thousand years in Earth’s future. He’d taken her to one of his concerts, handcuffed of course so she couldn’t run off. She liked the music and hummed it quietly until he relented and bought her the piano. She could play it note for note, better than the composer. For a long time all he did was watch her fingers sweep across the keys.  _She was beautiful_ , he thought, when she was playing.

“Would you like to know what I’m going to play after I’ve finished this sonata?” Missy asked.

“Why do I get the feeling the answer isn’t related to another song...”

W ell  _mostly_ because she had a glint in her eyes – as dark as the keys. “ You know, I’ve bee going over those stories you left for me – your old adventures.” He’s such a fool to think that showing her those moments will help educate her on being  _good_ . All they served to do was ignite her jealousy. There was the Doctor. Her Doctor. Off on his little trysts with all those fleeting mortals – showing them the stars instead of her. Missy was forming a list in her mind. She’d visit them  _all_ when she was free. “Wherever is that Jones girl these days? How’s that lovely family of hers...”

“She’s your favourite, isn’t she?” The Doctor muttered quietly. “Why?”

“You treated her coldly, like one of those lecturers you used to hate so much. _I can relate._ ”

The Doctor flinched as she snapped that last bit at him. “You think I am cold toward you?”

“That’s not the question I asked, Doctor.”

_Like she really cared about what happened to Martha._ “ She survived me.” The Doctor replied, but he was still looking at Missy curiously. Well – with concern – as she played. “No really, Missy, do you think I’m cold towards  you ?”

“Oh Doctor...” she drawled, tackling a difficult part of the song. “You kept me inside a cage for a thousand years – forgotten to visit for months on end – and ask me now if you’re cold? You’re _fucking frigid_.”

“Language...” He sighed.

“What if you’d never come back and I starved to death. It’d take a long time – several millennia I should think but in the end...”

“I’d never forgive myself.” The Doctor replied, and he was quite serious. “There, are you happy, Missy? I’d never forgive myself if you died alone in this box. I brought you here to save you, not kill you.”

“Then let me go.”

“No.”

S he deliberately slipped a few keys  because she knew that it vexed him. “ Who are you?”

“Your _friend_.” He replied, firmly. “Unless you’re having another go at my choice of name because if we’ve reached that part of the conversation it’s time for me to progress from tea onto that wine you stole.”

Missy flinched. How did he know about that? “It’s not  _stolen_ ,” she lied. “I ordered it online.”

“From the Humphrey Supernova? The internet is good, Missy but it’s not that good.” Actually her penchant for online shopping was really starting to concern him. “What address would you have given them anyway? The Vault?”

“Student Sex Dungeon, naturally.”

The Doctor can’t even tell if she’s kidding. It does, however, strike him rather suddenly that the reason she refused his tea earlier was because of the open bottle of wine at her feet and glass of red sitting beside it. She didn’t usually start without him. “Exactly how much of that wine have you had, Missy?”

Missy abandoned the tune and swivelled back to him. She liked the shine in his grey eyes and the way his hair refused to sit flat. She often wondered if he knew how ‘come hither’ he looked, folded into that chair at the base of the steps. It was as though the entire setup was a dare to egg her into performing for him. Fr eu d wouldn’t know how to begin with them… “ Fuck, Marry, Kill: Rassilon, Davros and a Weeping Angel?”

H e  _hated_ this game. It was the number one reason why he wanted to take the internet away from her.  This was a particularly bad example. The Doctor reached into his jacket and retrieved his sonic sunglasses, which he slipped on as a kind of defence against her.

“Well, I’m not fucking Davros or Rassilon.” He replied sharply. “So it’d have to be the Weeping Angel.”

Her face contorted as if she was trying to imagine that – which he really wished she wouldn’t.

“Look – as long as I keep my eyes open it’s possible.”

“No don’t-” Missy held up her hand. “Don’t elaborate.”

“I’d kill Davros. About time that bugger dies anyway so that leaves me with marrying Rassilon – which I could do via the post.”

“I feel like you cheated.”

“It’s not the hardest one you’ve given me. I’ve had practice.”

“Fuck, Marry, Kill: _me_ now as a woman, me when I became Prime Minister and me when I went around killing people with inflatable chairs.”

_This is my own fault._ He should have known better than to bait her. “ Well darling… You were a rubbish Prime Minister so I’d have to kill you.”

“How about if I kill you now...” Missy purred dangerously.

“And I admit, you were hot when you fussed about with those murder chairs.”

Dammit if Missy didn’t blush.

“And _this_ is practically a marriage here now. What are you doing?”

Missy was taking one of her purple arm bands off allowing her flowing sleeve to hand loose against her wrist. “I’ve thought of a punishment for when you lie.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Oh, yes you did...” She set the arm band on the piano. “I _heard_ your real reply. Psychic link. Not a lot you can do about that, I’m afraid.”

It was the Doctor’s turn to sweat. Shit. He’d forgotten about that. There were times when he could sense Missy hunting about in his mind and now and then she projected things she really shouldn’t into his. That said, he was absolutely sure that Missy was more gifted in that area than him. She seemed to pick his thoughts apart no trouble at all. It was very frustrating.

“So my punishment for lying is…?”

“I forfeit an item of clothing.”

Now he was really puzzled. “Are you sure that’s how the forfeit is supposed to go?” He’d always thought the loser forfeited clothes. That’s how Jack played.

“The loser is the one who’s meant to suffer. This is the best way of making you suffer, Doctor. I’m so bored… Locked up here. Nothing to do.” She was like a cat in a playpen. “I need toys! Or maybe you want to be the toy?”

“I _gave you toys_.” The Doctor sighed. “You tried to get your companions eaten by plants. You’re on a break from toys.”

S he snarled at him. That had been a perfectly fun afternoon romp. It’s not like she’d picked the planet. That had been his idea! “ Is this a bad time to reveal myself as the Rani?” She offered, as explanation.

The Doctor, still wearing his sonic shades as protection, lofted one of his expressive Pompeian eyebrows. “ That was always  _your kink_ ,” he reminded her. “Not mine.”

“I didn’t fuck the Rani.”

“Never said you did.”

“You suggested it – or did you imagine it? Because I have to tell you, Doctor, you may have fancied her when we were growing up but she is _properly_ dangerous.”

“Not like you at all, then...”

“Don’t get me wrong. I have a kink for danger, just like you but she’d detach our heads and use them as generators. You better remember that.”

T he Doctor wondered if that was perhaps something the Rani  _actually_ tried with Missy. She seemed to conjure up the image quite vividly.

“Although...” Missy was looking at him with a slightly darker shade of blue in her eyes. “Threesome?”

“What… With you and your bottle of wine?” He taunted her. “Or did you have your eye on one of the chairs?”

“Well, I _had_ been meaning to ask, why don’t we have any decent chairs?”

“I’ve bought you more chairs than any other person has ever had.” They were scattered all around the vault. “You can only sit on one of them at a time. That red one...” He added, with particular distaste. “You made me go back in time and fetch it from that mansion you used to live in. The one that burned down during the French Revolution. I had scorch marks _for days_ , Missy – _for days_...”

“Aw...” She cooed at him, standing up. Slowly, she sauntered over to the edge of the forcefield, balancing against one of the vertical beams. She looked odd, with one sleeve rolled up and the other hanging loose but that didn’t stop her trying to flirt. “Are you angry with me because I disassembled your robot egg man?”

H e was, a little bit. “That was very unkind of you, Missy. He was just bringing you sandwiches. Now you wonder why he doesn’t come down here any more. We  _still haven’t found his other lung._ ”

Missy shrugged innocently. She maintains there was only ever one lung.  The problem is that no matter how many questions the Doctor asks her, they are only ever playing  _one game_ . The conclusion is written before the Doctor opens the vault door. They take different path to the end, that’s all. That’s all they’d  _ever done_ .

“Oh – are you fucking the egg-one?” She toyed with him.

“You _really_ can’t keep calling him that.” He reminded her, though it never sank in. “Ever since his head got separated from his original body he’s developed a bit of a complex regarding oval shaped comparisons.”

“Do you practice avoiding questions, Doctor?”

“No.” He replied to that question and then, “No absolutely not. I am not _doing that_ with Nardole. Which you know, full well. He doesn’t have – the parts.”

Missy’s head fell backwards and she burst into raucous laughter. That was the best joke he’d told in ages.  She laughed until her mascara ran. She dabbed at it with her other sleeve leaving dark marks on the white cloth.

_He loved it when she laughed._

The Doctor couldn’t help but notice the chandelier hanging above him. It was iron – ornate and looked as though it had been plucked from a Scottish castle several hundred years ago. He couldn’t, for the life of him, fathom how she’d managed to hang it from the roof. Six months was a long time but there were changes made to the room that worried hi m.

“Oh honey, it wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve shagged now would it?” Missy pointed out. “I mean, we’ve all been around the block a few times but some of the places you’ve ventured… I feel like I should have my shots renewed.”

“Are you just teasing now for the sake of it?”

Missy narrowed her eyes at the vault door. “Why did you have to unlock that door this time?”

“Because I promised the egg- _Nardole_ ,” he quickly corrected. _SHIT_. Missy was rubbing off on him. “That I would start locking it after he found you in the library pilfering. Were you reading about yourself again?”

There were a few unflattering Saxon biographies lurking around and some very colourful conspiracy theories.

“No darling – _you_.” Missy replied. “You have been naughty.”

And true to form there was a fresh pile of books pushed into the corner of the room. “Those better not have been borrowed on my card. Seventy years of overdue books and I’m nearly broke.”

“Where do babies come from?”

“Nests...”

Missy removed her other arm band and playfully tossed it through the useless forcefield where it landed in the Doctor’s lap.

“What was that for?” He asked, setting it aside on the table.

“You lied.”

“I was being funny.”

“Lies are often funny. That’s why we tell them. Why can’t we eat baby humans?”

“Too much calcium.” The Doctor quipped without thinking. “They’d get stuck in your teeth.”

Missy grinned and this time undid her silk neck scarf and let it slip from her fingers to the floor. She was basically tricking him with questions he couldn’t resist. “ What’s the meaning of life?”

He rolled his eyes behind the safety of the glasses. “How am I supposed to answer that one without lying, Missy? I don’t know the truth.”

“Oh _go on_...”

“Forty-two.”

Absolute. Blank. Expression.

The Doctor shifted forward in genuine concern. “Wait – you don’t know what I’m talking about – do you?”

Missy folded her arms crossly. “Am I meant to know? Forty-two is  _such_ an arbitrarily dull number.  A natural, pronic, abundant, sphenic, primary pseudoperfect, Catalan, alternating sign matrix, pentadecagonal, meandric original Smith number. None of which makes it worthy of actual meaning.”

“But – the mice.”

“Did you _trip_ and fall on your head on the way in?” She drawled, overwhelmingly Scottish and perhaps genuinely concerned.

“Humans – they built this computer so big it required an entire planet – in order to find the answer to the meaning of life. That answer was forty-two except they forgot to find out what the question was first so they burned a few extra millennia calculating that. Wrong order. These things happen. Fits – though. In Japanese _shi ni_ sounds like the word for ‘death’ and what else is the point of life but death? The Ancient Egyptians knew that. Bit touchy-feely but their Book of the Dead lists forty-two questions that must be answered before reaching the after life. So yeah. We’re back to death. But there were definitely mice too. Mice that manipulated the human race into building the machine in the first place. Yeah. Pretty sure it was about the mice.”

“Are you sure that’s not just something you read in a book...”

T he Doctor genuinely had to think about that. “Might have to check.  Why are you  untying my scarf?”

Missy had unwrapped the Doctor’s silk scarf from around her waist, dragging the material through her fingertips, mostly because she liked the feel of it but partly because she enjoyed watching the way he squirmed in his chair. “ You lied.”

S he stepped through the forcefield making the whole room flicker into a blue hue for a moment. The Doctor tightened his hold on the arms of the chair. It shouldn’t make a difference, whether she was inside the field or not, it wasn’t like it was actually keeping her locked in… It did, though. It made a big difference.

“Are you watching porn on your sonic sunglasses?” Missy drawled, still holding the silk scarf.

“I’m watching _you_.”

And the fact that Missy  _didn’t_ remove any clothing made him swallow hard.  Instead, she laid the scarf around her neck, letting it hang over both shoulders as she approached. Another step. Each one too slow for his nerves. The biggest problem with Missy was that she knew  _everything_ about him. There was nowhere to hide from her eyes. No way to win this game they insisted on playing to justify the stark truth neither wanted to admit to.  _They did this because they wanted to. Simple as that._

“Missy...” He warned, when she made it to the marble floor. The soft _‘click’_ of her boots echoed over the surface, like the _tick_ of his hearts, so close to falling out of step with each other. This was _exactly_ why he wasn’t supposed to come down to the vault alone. He’d had it spelled out to him in blush-inducing detail several times. “Missy – we agreed.”

Missy only stopped when she was uncomfortably close to the front of his chair. He could smell her on the air now – that faint ripple of perfume from Gallifrey.  _Fuck knows how she still had that._ He’d know her anywhere. Across all of time and space – with any face.  They were carved from the same moment of time and always would be.

S he leaned over, arched her back and bent down until her nose came within an inch of his. She wasn’t touching him – only looking. Looking directly into her own reflection in the sonic sunglasses. “I know what you’re doing...” She whispered. “You think I haven’t worked it out?”

The Doctor tensed up beneath her.  _She didn’t know. Of course she didn’t know._

Her hands went to his glasses, taking them by the arms very carefully. She began to slide them off when he startled – reaching up to grasp her arms. The sudden contact was electrifying and it took both of them a moment to focus on anything other than the beat of each other’s hearts in the air.

“You can’t have those...” The Doctor whispered. Sonic Sunglasses? She could escape the vault and take out a few planets for a laugh with those.

“You’re lucky I haven’t snapped them in two...” She breathed back. “And I would – if I didn’t revel in your lack of self control.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh – another lie. How _exciting_.” She whispered – tugging at the glasses again. “There’s a little blue light, Doctor, at the corner when you set them to _record_. Just a tip for future  reference.” Missy felt him release his grip immediately out of embarrassment. She slid the glasses all the way off – toyed with him a moment as if she might scurry off with them but instead she set them on the table beside, facing them. Still recording. “And now for your forfeit.”

H e had thought she was going to go for something unforgivable – like the buttons on her Victorian shirt. He was prepared for that. Sucking in a sharp breath – holding it in his lungs as he steeled himself for the impending expanse of cream skin he knew lurked beneath. For the first rise of her breasts that she insisted on binding into that ridiculous corset. For the line of her collar bone that he wanted nothing more than to -

_Snap._

The Doctor panicked. There was a freezing press of metal around his wrist. Before he could process what had happened it was followed by a second, equally final,  _snap._

He looked across to his left hand arm and found that she’d handcuffed him to the bloody coffee table. Again.

“Missy!” He growled, reaching over – trying to unhook himself. “I confiscated these! How do you – Missy!”

She retreated a few steps, grinning madly. “ Is this a bad time to tell you that I lost the key to the handcuffs?”

H e leaned over the arm of the chair to see the other end latched around the table leg leaving his arm at an awkward angle. Every time he struggled the table rattled, unsteady, threatening to shift his cup and saucer to their respective deaths. She’d like that. Missy loved the chaos of smashed porcelain. She thought it was beautiful – a perfect display of bubble chamber theory  in the macro world.

M issy roamed over to the other chair, moving freely now that she knew he couldn’t stop her. Handcuffs were wonderfully useful. She’d have to zip down River’s time stream later and thank her for them. The Doctor wasn’t observant enough to notice that they were the same cuffs.  _Or maybe River didn’t experiment as much as she claimed._

“Does this jacket make me look fat?” She asked, plucking the Doctor’s trench coat from the rack where he’d left it on his last visit. It swamped her figure as she slipped it on, pulled the sides across her chest and pouted for him.

“Put that back...” He warned her. Every time she wore his clothes they ended up smelling like her and that was an unnecessarily distraction when he was trying to save planets.

Missy sulked, letting it slip off her shoulders but not all the way off. “Still damp. Did you really fall into the  East  Siberian Sea?”

“It was a strange day,” he replied, sinking back into his chair. There was no point trying to sonic the handcuffs. It didn’t work and trying only made her cackle. “You know how it is. Ice Spirits. Nuclear submarines. Companions that wander off.”

S he liked his jacket. Maybe she’d keep it and swaddle herself in its warmth during the months that he left her alone in the vault. “ I nearly forgot.” Missy whispered, letting the jacket crumple to the ground. She left it there, pooled around her feet. There was something about the sight that caught the Doctor’s attention because he was tugging, ever so slightly, against the handcuffs. “Your forfeit.”

“You mean the coat doesn’t count?”

M issy slipped her hands behind her back and began unfastening the elaborate belt she’d been wearing beneath his silk scarf.  _Well_ , thought the Doctor,  _that wasn’t such a bad forfeit._ It landed amongst his coat and vanished from view.

“If you could only save Bill or Amy, who would you choose?”

“I’m not answering that...” The Doctor set his eyes on her. She didn’t seem to know the difference between flirting with lines and crossing them or if she did, she revelled in tumbling onto the wrong side.

“No answer is the same as a lie.” Missy warned him.

“So be it.”

Missy shrugged. She didn’t mind either way.  She wasn’t going to stay safely on the other side of the room either. Not at all. Missy strolled casually across the floor until she was directly in front of the Doctor, backlit by her cave and the outline of her piano.  This time she invaded the Doctor’s space – lifting her heavy skirts so that she could slip one leg over his and straddle him. She wasn’t exactly in his lap but the weight on his thighs made his breath catch and eyes flicker shut for a moment.  He didn’t dare move either of his hands.

“You ready?” She whispered, as if he had some kind of a choice. Missy began by tugging at the base of her shirt, working it out of the waistband of her skirt. Then she toyed with the buttons at the bottom, slipping them through the beautifully worked holes one at a time, indulging in the Doctor’s eyes which were drinking her in. When she freed the last button at her neck she let the two sides of her shirt fall open just enough that there was a river of purple satin beneath where her corset peeked through.

H e wasn’t speaking. Missy counted that as a victory. The Doctor speechless was a phenomenon almost solely owned by her. “ I s that the sound of drums I hear?”

No. It was his hearts, thumping against his rib cage.  About to crack a fucking rib.

“Doctor. I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you know who that severed finger belongs to?”

The Doctor had to physically shake his head to snap himself into gear. “I – uh –  _what_ ?”

“In the fridge. Someone left it in there. Should have asked a while ago.”

“There isn’t a finger in the fridge, Missy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just took the milk out of there.” Well he really _hoped_ she was only winding him up. He didn’t have time to solve a mystery this weekend especially not one that would lead to difficult questions.

“Ooh...” She added, deliberately shifting her weight. It was the slightly hint of a rocking motion that he was trying desperately not to think about. “And that immortal fixed point, Jack?”

_This isn’t going to help,_ he thought.

“Can I torture him?”

“Well, he’s really just a face now but whatever you two do in your own time is none of my business. Wait – that wasn’t a lie...”

“You _always_ keep tabs on your conquests...” Missy replied, nudging the shirt off her shoulders, sliding her arms out and tossing it onto the other chair where it lingered on the velvet for a moment and then slid helplessly onto the marble floor.  The warm air on her skin made Missy moan softly. She caught him looking at her corset. He liked this one. There was Gallifreyan text stitched into the plum fabric with gold thread and black laces woven around the waist before they crossed up the front and tied in a drooping bow that might unravel at a stray thought. “Will you wear my corset?”

“I prefer it when you wear it...” He admitted in a breath that he couldn’t take back.

M issy crept forward, inching her way closer to his lap. Her skirts rode up to her carves so that he could catch a glimpse of her black stockings. “ Your latest human pet,” Missy ghosted across his lips, never touching, moving to hiss softly against his ear, “do you think I’m her type?” It was as much of a threat to Bill’s safety as the Doctor’s sanity.

“You can’t play with her… Companions aren’t pets-” He was cut short by her lips dragging down the vein on his neck. His free hand reached out on instinct, splayed against the front of her corset where his fingers tangled with the lacings.

“If we went to a graveyard, would you kiss me again?” She asked, almost begging. She could feel his fingers caught in the loop of the bow. Lifting herself slightly, his finger began to tug it free. “Would you still love me...” she added, unable to stop herself as both her hands smoothed over his shoulders – the rush of red velvet making her sigh gently against his skin, “...if didn’t turn good?”

T he Doctor turned his head slightly, pressing his cheek against hers, nuzzling her in a tender moment that no one else would ever see between them. For a  second they were perfect. “ Who says I love you?”  It was his turn to tease.

“Have you forgotten that you’d kill for me?” She replied, pressing her teeth against his skin, leaving a red mark on his neck. “That’s _‘Time Lord’_ for _love_.”

“Is that why you keep trying to kill me?” He asked, against her cheek. Missy’s hands had raced down his arms and swept around, testing the edges of his jacket – pushing it apart so that she could rest both hands on his chest. He knew that she was feeling his hearts. She always did that. It made him shake.

“You want me _more_ when I hold your life in my hands.”  Missy tormented him, lifting her head. His eyes were drowning in lust. “The fear makes you…”

I t was the Doctor that cut her short, leaning up to capture her lips before she could flee. He tugged her firmly towards him by the front of her corset and felt her moan against his mouth.  She was always such a tease but when it came to it the Doctor knew that it was  _him_ that couldn’t live without  _this_ . Whatever  _this_ was between them.

He felt a stray hand slip around his neck – curl in his hair and tug his head back sharply. Their lips snapped apart and she was there, staring  him down – her pale skin flushed – licking her lips.

“Can you feel that spider in your hair?” She asked, dragging his head even further back so that she could descend on his neck and place open mouthed kisses right over his skin. Each one make his hips lift to her. 

“What are you doing?” He gasped.

“….if you don’t know by now...” Missy tipped forward further and utterly devoured his mouth. It was heavy – open mouthed and all consuming. His hand slipped around to her back and she allowed herself to lay against his chest, pressing him into the back of the chair. Missy turned her head. Risked a gasp of breath. Went back for another taste of him – running her tongue against his until he literally swallowed a growl.

S he wasn’t playing games with him any more.

Missy dragged herself  away from him. They stared – sizing each other up. She was still dangerous but so was he. That’s what no one but her saw. They were more alike than anyone realised.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that’s hu-”

“Would you _stop talking_ and fuck me?” The Doctor rumbled,  impatient gravel in every breath. Missy’s hands grasped his shirt and tore it apart, flinging buttons to every corner of the room. He could hear them rolling away into the shadows. “Missy…!” But he’d as good as begged.

“Is that the sound of human screams I hear?”

Because he  _had_ let out her name as a startled cry. “Stop. Feeding. That. Lie.” He gasped, as her mouth found his now naked chest. She went for him, teeth first, catching his flesh almost dangerously. “It’s – disgusting.”

“Did you know there’s a human actor who looks _just like you…_ Mmm two of you. Now I’m getting ideas.” Her mind was wandering so much she wasn’t even really asking questions of him. No. She was too busy with his muscles flexing beneath her lips.

“What are you talking about? I. Got this – face from… _Pompeii_...” He was struggling to keep his replies audible.

“The universe is getting lazy. Throwing on a few repeats.”

“You. Too...” He managed – his only free hand in her hair. He’d worked some of her hair pins free and now her unwieldy locks bounced around her face. “An actor. I mean – looks like...” But he wasn’t even able to finish the thought.

M issy looked up, chin resting on his chest.  Oh, she knew that already. “Well – had to pull this face from somewhere. I had  _a lot_ of spare time as Prime Minister. Watched  a great deal of obscure shit.”

“You did it on purpose?”

“ _Do you want to have sex with me?”_ She rolled off one of the lines. Yes, Missy had absolutely chosen this face on purpose. _“I mean, do you want to just have – do you want to just fuck me now? Do you wanna do that? Do you wanna just get your cock out and fuck me now? How about that, yeah? Shall we, here, on the chair? Yeah, how about whopping it up my ass? What about that, Doctor?”_ Sure she’d paraphrased a little but the effect on the Doctor was everything she’d been hoping for. Deny it he might but the Doctor fucking _loved it_ when sank into the basest of primitive English. He was _such_ an anthropologist. _“So, are you going to fuck me or should I get the ol’ strap on out?”_

“That’s… That’s enough TV for a while – I think...”

H is cock was hard under her thigh. If she pressed her leg down he’d moan on command.  Which she did, grinding herself against him through the fabric. “ Oh I see… Tied up. Barely breathing. Are you a subslut...” The last word was barely even a hiss.

“A – _what_...”

“You shouldn’t have lied.” Missy dragged herself off him much to his protests. Now she could really see what she’d done to him – a perfect ridge in his trousers, waiting for her – his hair a mess and his eyes, as clear as they’d ever been. Missy unzipped the side of her skirt and let the heavy arrangement drop.

The Doctor strained against the handcuffs at the sight of her lace garters and suspenders – hooked onto another thick length of lace around her waist. Only humans would create garments that inspired such wild abandon. He cold hardly take it – looking at her – sweat dripping off the side of his brow. He shouldn’t have worn the jacket but she liked it… Liked to run her hands over it and leave claw marks in the fabric.

“Can we just – cut the – crap and – have sex already?”

Much more of this and he’d need a new set of hearts. “That’s the best question you’ve asked all day. Missy...” The Doctor locked eyes with her as she slid the last vestige o f modesty down her thighs. If you could even call those panties. The rest she had no intention of taking off if the look she was giving him was anything to go by.

“Are you ready for your birthday present?”

T he Doctor did a double take of her. “Is it…?”

Missy’s return look was one of infinite patience. “Oh honey, what would you do without me?”


End file.
